If I Really Went to Middle Earth
by Linsul
Summary: A realistic look at all those girl falls into Middle Earth stories. NO Legomance or romance with any other character. This girl doesn't stand a chance.
1. Prolouge

**Prologue: In which the Writer-me is struck with inspiration, and the writing begins. **

**Disclaimer:** I make some jokes about fan girls and mary sues in here. Please don't get mad; one of my fave fan fiction stories is a very Mary-Sueish tale. (Hehe Lalaith) Heck, I even started writing a very Mary-Sue sounding story. Also, I have changed my name. "Allysandra" is actually a close friend's name. immaturity I'm not gonna tell you my real name. Haha! You can't make me/immaturity

It's every (I think, at least. Don't sue me if it isn't your dream) LOTR fan's dream: To join the Fellowship on their quest to Mordor. Since the creation of the movies, that wish has intensified, especially in the hearts of the local female population, who, at the unveiling of Orlando Bloom, decided that maybe fantasy wasn't so bad after all, and thus began the Great Fan girl Movement, in which the amount of screenames with "Legolas", "Orli" and "Greenleaf" in them greatly increased. But I won't get into all that now.

One night, I was lying in bed, thinking about Mary Sues. Now, Mary Sues are very bad things to think about at night, because a lot of them are so awful, so _perfect_ it drives most normal women insane, and also causes one to be so cross, you can't sleep.

They all (with a few exceptions) followed the same plot line:

-Girl falls into Middle Earth, usually Rivendell

-Girl some how gets into Council,

-Girl goes with Fellowship

-(Usually on A very Coralie-like plot appears, complete with the list of things that are in their backpack , which is infinitely huge.

-Legolas falls in love with this grrr "perfect" girl...

I'm sorry. I can't go on. Otherwise I might hurt something with frustration.

Aaanyways, as I was saying, I was thinking about Mary Sues, and how improbable and frustrating they are. As I was contemplating the demise of a certain Mary-Sue on I thought of something: What if the authors of these stories _really_ went to Middle Earth? What if, for that matter, _anyone_ really went to Middle Earth? I mean, think about this: What would you do if, suddenly, you were in ME? What would the characters _really_ do if a girl showed up in Rivendell, speaking a language slightly similar to Rohirric, and claimed that she was from another world? Hm. My muse began to pinch me, _hard_. I rushed to the computer, struck with this idea, and began to write...


	2. Chapter one: the Language Barrier

**Ch 1: The Language Barrier**

"Eeehh..." I blinked, my eyes slowly focusing as I woke. Yawning, I stretched and sat up.

"Ahhh!" I let out a shriek and scrambled to my feet. Where was I? It looked like- no. It couldn't be. I saw above my head, not the painted blue of my ceiling, but the bright blue of the real sky. There were no walls surrounding me, only long, yellow grass, parched in the bright sun.

"Hwæt eart thu?"

I whirled to face the owner of the voice that spoke. Again, I shrieked. He was clothed all in armour, that shone in the sun. His copper-colered helm covered the top of his head, but I could see his long, light hair streaming down his back in a dirty mix of braids, loose hair, and tangles. He smelled of sweat, smoke, blood and horses. I wrinkled my nose, and took a step back, even in my confusion feeling a deep repulsion for his strong odors.

"Na nemnan Rohirric?" he spoke slowy now, and softly, as though he could tell I was frightened.

"What?" It came out as a squeak. Who was this stranger? I was all too aware of the nightshirt I was wearing, which barely reached my knees. Would anyone hear me if I cried for help?

"Ic pancie pe, Aedil. Fréond."

Friend. I could understand that. He was trying to make me calm down. Well, I wasn't calm. I had gone to bed in my room last night, and woken to find myself in a foreign land, which was inhabited by a smelly man wearing clothes that reminding me of an Anglo-Saxon's clothing. Now, if _that_ doesn't give a girl reason to freak, nothing will.

I took a step back, feeling much like a deer who has been spotted by a human: terrifed, but uncertain. "Thu eart...?" He asked me. I shook my head, trying to make him see that I did not understand. He nodded, then pointed at himself. "Ic Aedil. " Now, he pointed at me. "Thu...?"

"Alysandra. I'm Alysandra." I said, finally comprehending.

He grinned at me. "Pu Alysandra, Ic Aedil. Fréonds."

I pointed at him. "Ic... Aedil?"

He shook his head. "_Thu_ Aedil. Thu secgan 'thu'. Ic secgan 'Ic'"

"But... Why'd you call yourself Ic Aedil?"

"Na! Ic-" He pointed at himself- "Thu-" he pointed at me.

I scratched my head. "You're making no sense, Ic Aedil."

He laughed, slapping his gloved hands on his thighs. "Alysandra secgan oæt héo Aedil! Ha!"

I stared at him in confusion, wondering what was so funny. "Ic Aedil..." I said, hoping for some sort of explanation, but that only made him laugh harder.

Rohirric translations:

The man often simplified his speech to try to help her understand, so the grammer is bad.

-Hwæt eart thu? Who are you?

-Na nemnan Rohirric? No speak Rohirric?

-Ic pancie pe, Aedil. Fréond. My name is Aedil. Friend.

-Thu eart...? You are...?

-Ic Aedil. I Aedil.

-Thu...? You...?

-Thu Alysandra, Ic Aedil. Fréonds. You Alysandra, I Aedil. Friends.

-Ic... Aedil? I... Aedil?

-_Thu_ Aedil. Thu secgan 'thu'. Ic secgan 'Ic'. _You_ Aedil. You say 'thu'. I say 'Ic'.

-Na! Ic- No! I-

-thu you

-Ic Aedil I Aedil

-Alysandra secgan oæt héo Aedil! Ha! Alysandra says that she is Aedil! Ha!

Notes: Thanks to Ere for language help!


	3. Chapter two: Just A Dream

**Ch 2: In which I think that this is simply a dream.**

I huddled beside the fire, not daring to meet the eyes of any around me. Intsead, I stared at the fabric of my new dress, kindly given to me by a woman whom I assumed was Ic Aedil's wife. She bustled about the small house, feeding, reprimanding, and praising her brood of children all at once. Ic Aedil had dissapeared with a group of friends, all dressed in similar garb as himself, telling his mate: "Ic g?n idan se mearh."

"Mægden?" She was beside me, offering me a bowl of soup.

I shook my head. "No thanks."

"Etan, mægden!" She pushed the bowl towards my hands, and I took it from her, wincing as hot soup fell into my lap. I picked up the spoon, and put some soup in my mouth, to satisfy her. She grunted, then return to her pot of soup.

"Hwæt!" A little voice spoke at my elbow. It was one of Ic Aedil's sons, who looked scarcely more than seven years old, and was missing his two top front teeth. I smiled at him.

He stared hungrily at my soup. I lifted the bowl up a bit. "Do you want this or something? You-" I pointed at him "-want soup?" pointed at the bowl. He nodded vigorously. "Giese!" I handed it to him.

"Here," I said, "You can have it." He snatchd it from me greedily, and scuttled off to some corner in which he could enjoy his spoils.

I watched him for awhile, then turned back to the fire, gazing into the flames. For not the first time, I wondered why and how the heck I had gotten here. _Where is here? _I looked about myself at the thatched building I was in. It looked so- Rohirric.

Rohirric?

I stood up quickly, and raced outside. "Oh, my God..." There it was, before me, a village of the West Fold. The exact village that was shown burning in the movie, lake and all. "No..." How could I have missed it? "No...!" A terror filled me. The West Fold was attacked in... _Wait!_ Inwardly, I laughed at myself. Why was I getting so upset? This wasn't real- LOTR was a story. Fiction. Fantasy. _This wasn't real- this was dream._ I relaxed. _Of course. It's not like I haven't had dreams in which I am in Middle Earth before. _

_Just a dream._


	4. Chapter three: Ummm

**Ch 3: In which "Ummmmmm... " is said quite a few times, and I don't wake up.**

I yawned sleepily, and rubbed the "sleepies" out of my eyes, expecting to hear the usual sounds around my house in the morning: Dad cooking eggs, singing along to Toby Keith as he flipped eggs and toasted toast, my kid sister screaming with frustration as she lost another game on her Game Cube, and my mother, clacking away at her keyboard as she worked on one of her stories.

But that wasn't what I heard.

Instead, I heard two small children arguing, a woman scolding, and- _a horse whinnying?_

I hadn't woken up yet. I began to get an odd, crawly feeling on the back of my neck. Maybe... no. I quickly dismissed the idea. I was dreaming. This was not real.

Maybe I was wrong, though. The pressure in my bladder felt awfully real. I groaned, and rose from the bundle of furs that I had fallen asleep on last night. Even if this was only a dream, I needed to go to the bathroom. Now. But how to explain this?

"Uh..." I approached Ic Aedil's wife with much apprehension. How was I going to sign _this_ to her?

"Ah!" She smiled at me, turned back to her two children, and continued scolding them.

"I- um..." I said again, clearing my throat as she shooed her offspring outside, and turned to look at me. "Uh... I need to relieve myself." I said, knowing full well that she wouldn't understand.

"Hwa?"

"I-" I pointed at myself "-need to go-" I mimed walking "-to the restroom." I was too embarrassed to make a sign for this fearing that she would think I meant something altogether different, and thus insult her, so I just said "bathroom" with a lot of emphasis.

She shook her head, frowning. "Ic fremman ne asmeagan."

I cast my eyes desperately about the room, trying to find a way to communicate. There was a shaggy dog just outside the house door. I looked at him for awhile, frowning.

Then, the dog did something that dogs have done since the dawn of time: marked his territory. I pointed at the dog quickly. "I-" I pointed at myself "- need to do that!" I pointed at the dog, who was looking quite miffed at us for staring at him as he did his business.

She looked confused. "Thu bethurfan hund?" She picked a lone puppy up off the ground, and offered it to me.

I shook my head. "No! I don't want a dog!" The pressure was getting awful. What if I wet my pants? Bad memories of the second grade zoo field trip popped into my mind.

"I need to go to the bathroom! I need to find a place where I can relieve myself!" I motioned at the dog again, who had walked two feet from his former position, and decided to mark that spot, as well.

"Oh!" All confusion cleared from her face. She took me by the hand, and led me to a private spot outside the house that had obviously been in use by the family for quite a few years. After smiling at me and patting my hand, she left me to relieve myself.

The rest of the day was an odd one, with Ic Aedil's wife - "Mõdor", as the children called her- setting me to tasks such as helping cook meals, take care of the children, and patch up torn clothes. Luckily, I was pretty good at cooking over a fire and entertaining children, and I had a basic knowledge of stitching, so I wasn't completely useless to Mõdor.

There were ten young children in all; seven boys, and three girls. The two eldest girls- they looked liked they were 12 and 14- joined Mõdor and I with the chores, chattering merrily the whole time. The boys were gone most of the time, out bothering soldiers and getting into scrapes, but whenever a meal was ready, they would magically appear, dirty and hungry.

The other girl was naught but a baby with very blue eyes and a little golden head. Somehow, Mõdor managed to do everything one armed- little "Lytling", as her sisters called her, was always in her mother's arms, staring wide-eyed at all the proceedings that went on in the home.

The girls and I began to play a game. One of us would point at something, say its name in their language, then the other would say _their_ name for the item.

"Fire," I said, pointing at the fire that was heating the soup we were currently stirring.

"Lig." the fourteen year old said, grinning. "Fie-ur..." she giggled as she tried to pronounce the odd word. Her sister pointed at an object.

"Gyrwan."

"Dress." I said.

Soon, I was able to greet people, inform them that my dress was on fire, ask for various foods, and insult everyone in a person's family, starting three generations back. I learned that the eldest girl's name, Blostma, meant "flower", and that "Mõdor" meant "Mother" and was not Ic Aedil's wife's name after all.

By the time we had fed the baby and cooked two meals together, we were friends.

But no matter how much fun we were having, I routinely went to the door and scanned the hills for any sign of three riders. It was odd. Normally, by now, someone from the fellowship would be arriving. That was always how it was in my dreams. But not this time. Of course, normally, I was in Edoras, and not in some unknown village that had never been mentioned in the books. However, I was still certain that this was all a dream.

"OW!" I yelled, grabbing my hand and jumping up and down. I had been staring out the open door, looking for Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, while chopping an onion, and , since I was so distracted, had cut my hand, which was now bleeding. I screwed up my eyes, expecting to wake up...

I didn't.

Maybe it was just a dream-cut. No, it couldn't be. My palm was bleeding terribly, and the pain was awful. I gritted my teeth, and tried to hold the cut, which seemed to be deep, closed.

"Allysandra!" Blostma hurriedly grabbed a scrap of cloth that had been used for wiping their father's horse, and began to tie my hand up with it. I didn't bother to protest about being hygienic. I was too busy thinking, and trying not to scream.

_If even this pain hasn't woken me up, and I am feeling all this for real, then... I mean, I've never had a cut in a dream that hurt this bad... maybe..._

The awful truth hit me. _I wasn't dreaming!_


	5. Chapter 4: The Burning of the West Fold

**Ch 4: The Burning of the West Fold **

The shriek pierced my ears, startling Blostma and I out of our sleepy silence. She scrambled to the doorway, dropping the toy she had been entertaining Lytling with. She soon let out a gasp, and called franticly to me.

" Alysandra! Alysandra, wilde ielde! Hie heawan user ielde!" I did not understand, but she was so frantic I hurried to join her.

The village was burning. People fled from an oncoming army, that swarmed over the small town like so many ants. I gulped, and tried to suppress my fear . Blostma was the first to break out of our horrified trance, and began to bustle quickly around the house, taking some food, handing me Lytling, and hurrying the other three children who were with us outside of the house, trying to get them to go faster. I followed quickly, trying hard to keep myself under control. We were running past crowds of screaming people, past frightened horses, past burning homes... I noticed that Blostma and one of her brothers where far behind us. Swallowing my fear, I turned back for her, her other two brothers following me closely.

"Hraeding!" Blostma yelled, tugging on the boy's hand. The little tike wailed, looking back over his shoulder.

"Modor! Modor!" The boy shrieked, digging his feet into the ground, making the two of the halt.

"She'll be fine!" I cried, trying to shush the baby, who began to wail. Horsemen were rushing by us, going to meet the invaders. There were so few...

"Wit sculan faran!" Blostma wailed franticly. The shouts were drawing closer. . . . we could see men coming over the nearest hill. . . .

"Faran, Alysandra!" Blostma pushed her other two siblings towards me, motioning for us to flee. "Faran! Ic nah gewald! Ic sculan findan Modor! FARAN!" She bellowed, and, too terrified to question her judgment, I fled, clutching the hands of the small boys, who began to cry. I was crying too- what if I died?

"Modor!" the boys were crying for their mother, and trying to go back, but I herded them before me, determined now to get them to the hills and - hopefully- into safety. Lytling was screaming. . . . . or was it me? In my panic, I could not tell.

I continued to run, and smoke filled my nostrils . . . . we were near a fire. . . . . I could hear fighting. . . . Where were the boys? I was suddenly aware of the fact that the baby and I were alone in the smoke. I looked franticly about, but there was no sign of them hiding by any of the nearby homes. I was almost to the hills... I could save my own skin if I ran now...

Coarse voices filled my ears, and I saw soldiers lighting a nearby home on fire. I made the cowardly decision: to flee. And so I did, clutching Lytling to my breast and hurrying to get into the hills.

I have never felt worse in all my life than at that moment.

Night had fallen. Still I jogged/walked/limped/ran across the fields, not stopping to rest. But my adrenaline was no longer so great, and I no longer could keep an even pace. Finally, I stopped.

I couldn't run any farther. I was too tiered. Too overcome. Besides, I had never been the most fit person on Earth or- wherever. Lytling was only sobbing now, her big blue eyes red and sorrowful. I halfheartedly tried to rock her, but I was too preoccupied with thoughts of Lytling's family. I closed my eyes, and sank into the yellow grass, ignoring how itchy it was.

_You're such a jerk, Sandra. You just indirectly killed two kids!_ A little voice was yelling at the back of my head. I buried my face in my one free hand and cried. Everything was just too awful. I wished to God that this had never happened. Lytling began to cry in earnest, too, and together we wept under the bright stars that twinkled happily, unaware of the slaughter that had just occurred.

A bird was singing somewhere. I rolled over sleepily, bumping into Lytling, who was curled up next to me. At first I though she had died, and I sat up quickly, but my fears were unfounded. She was clearly breathing. My heart slowed a bit.

The grass was tall, shielding all but my head from sight as I sat on the hillside beneath the morning sun. I took a deep breath, and stood. I winced. My legs hurt. I had never run so far before. _Maybe,_ I thought dryly, _I'll lose a few pounds before this is over. _I smiled at the idea, but quickly frowned. It couldn't be right to be smiling only a day after that slaughter, could it?

After Lytling awoke, we started off again, except this time walking. We needed to find a town, find shelter. Especially we needed to find a mother for Lytling. She couldn't survive long without food. Could she eat solids yet? I could not remember her mother breast feeding her, but, then again, I could not remember seeing Lytling eat at all. My brain was muddled, and confused. Hopefully it would clear up in time.

Either way, we needed to find another human, and soon. I had no idea what you could, or could not eat, and, though I had seen rabbits, I had no idea how I would hunt one with Lytling. So I set out, with the sun at my left, hoping that there was someone- _anyone_ who would help...


	6. Chapter 5 : Hunger

**Chapter 5 : Hunger**

_Cat puke,_ I thought sleepily as I sat down to rest and watch the sun set. _That's what the sky looks like. Cat puke, if your cat's been eating lots of salmon. _The clouds, with their pinkish tint, _did_ look a bit fishy, rippled into scales by a high-altitude wind. As the light faded, deep blue gaps of night peered through like an upside-down ocean, bottomless and cold.

My stomach rumbled at the thought of salmon, or any food, for that matter. It had been two days since we'd eaten anything. I was increasingly worried about Lytling, who cried whenever she wasn't asleep. She was simply sobbing now, too tired to wail.

A rabbit hopped unconcernedly at the base of the hill, pausing to drink from a puddle that had gathered in crook between two hills. I stiffened, staring down at it hungrily. I hadn't had meat in awhile. The rohirric family I had been with had eaten meat rarely, choosing to live off the small garden outside instead.

I glanced down at Lytling, who had finally drifted to sleep, though she was still sniffling. Maybe I could leave her for a bit. The grass made a good cushion, and I'd just be down the hill aways. Not too far.

My mind made up, I set her down in the grass, and cautiously made my way downhill.

The rabbit's ears went up. It froze. Flattened itself out on the ground, using an old lepine trick that fooled hawks, (who could only tell the difference between prey and grass if the prey was moving), and most all of its other predators. But it was too late. I'd already seen it.

Even with my lack of weapons, I was pretty sure that I could capture it. I'd spent many a year of my childhood chasing my pet rabbits in our large yard, and occasionally chasing the wild ones behind our houses. I had become pretty efficient at catching rabbits. I hoped that I still was.

I pretended I didn't see bunny, walking nonchalantly to the left, and heading away from it, keeping my eyes fixed on another spot, though I was watching it out of the corner of my eyes. It remained still.

I turned as fast as I could and pounced, only to have it wriggle out of my hands and shoot away into the night. I howled, angry, and scrambled after.

I'd no idea I could run so fast. I suppose it was hunger that drove me to race after the poor rabbit, who was frantic by now. Even when I lost sight of the actual rabbit, I could follow the ripples in the long grass. I pounced often, but each time I was unsuccessful in catching my prey. _C'mon, Ally!_I chided myself,_ this was easy when you were a kid!_ But the plains of Rohan offered more places for the rabbit to run than my walled-in backyard, or the flat, open parks where I used to chase rabbits.

I was panting by now, and the ripples in the grass were far ahead. I gave up, feeling ready to cry. What was I going to do? Even if I'd caught the rabbit, there'd be nothing to feed Lytling with! Tierd, I headed back to where I'd left Lytling.

The return trip took much longer than on the way out, and when I finally reached Lytling, the stars were out, and peeping through the clouds. She was awake, and whimpering again. I hugged her to my chest, wishing with all my heart I could give her food.

"Please, God, " I prayed as I held her, "Help me to find food for Lytling. Please. Shhh..." I whispered to baby, as she began to cry even louder. "I don't want her to die, God. Please, help."

With the morning came a sort of calm. I was more determined than ever to find a settlement, any settlement. I walked as fast as I could in my exhaustion, heading in no particular direction. Lytling slept most of the time, her little golden head leaning against my shoulder. That alone was enough encouragement to keep me going.

I saw smoke on the horizon at about noon. At first, I was excited, thinking that it was the smoke of village fires, but as I drew closer, I saw that the smoke was much too dense and dark to be a cluster of small fires. With a sinking heart, I realized that it was another burnt-out village. The wild men must've been busy.

I sat on one of the many rocks, and simply stared at the smoking, blackened ruins, feeling nothing. I was, I suppose, too tired to think or feel. I coughed as the smoke filled my lungs. Lytling blinked at the village, seemingly not really seeing them.

I sat, watching the now small flames lick the ruins, and die. The feelings seeped into me slowly. The realization of what this meant came first, and with it despair, knowing the next village had to be over a day's walk away. Most likely the Wild men would get there before me.

Lytling's blue eyes looked wearily up into mine as I explained to her why there was no food. Even though she couldn't really understand me, I felt that I owed her at least that much. I finally broke down crying, not able to bear that tiny, sorrowful face. As my warm tears splattered on her face, Lytling took one of her chubby hands over her face to block my tears, and began to cry as well.

This was altogether too much for me. There had to be _something_ for her to eat! Anything! I set her down, and rushed at the burning wreckage. My bare feet singed as I ran through the hot ashes. I scrambled over blackened beams, and dug franticly, trying to find something, anything, to feed Lytling with.

"Come _on_!" I yelled, furious at the hot wreckage that laughingly, (or so I thought in my anger), hid all food from me. My skirt caught fire, and I franticly beat it with my hand, not caring if I burnt my hands in the process.

I threw a smoldering wooden shield out of my way, frantic to find food. There! A cracked clay jar was sitting on the ground. White liquid was leaking out of the crack. Milk! I grabbed it, and whooped, happier and more delighted than I'd been since I'd come to this godforsaken country. I hastily took my skirts and used it to plug up the crack, which was as long as my middle finger.

The jar was hot from being buried under all that ash for who knows how long, but I held tight onto it, and refused to follow my reflexes and drop it. I ran, excited, to where Lytling lay, still crying.

Hastily, I set the jar on the ground, knelt, and picked her up. I poured milk into my other hand from the crack, and held it to Lytling's lips. She stopped crying as she tasted the rather warm milk, and eagerly began to drink more. I smiled as she ate, my heart slightly less heavy. Some hope at last.


	7. Chapter 6: Of Edoras and Acne

A/N: I am going by a mix of movie verse and book verse, just so you know. I love the books, but the movies make it simpler. Sorry to all you book fans- I'll try to put as much book verse as I can in.

To all my reviewers: I love you all, and thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy the rest!

**Chapter Six: Of Edoras and Acne**

I first saw the city at sunset. I had spotted two people on horseback, and was trying to call to them when I reached the hill-top and beheld Edoras, more beautiful and breathtaking than any picture or movie would have been able to convey. The Golden Halls upon the top of that large hill shone in the reddish light of the sunset, looking like what I thought heaven must look like. It was the best thing I'd seen since I'd come here.

I stood still, simply admiring the city, no longer watching the solitary horse with it's two riders. It was just as I had imagined it- only a hundred times better.

_The folks at TORC would get a kick out of this,_ I thought, suddenly remembering all my friends there. I wished they could've come, too. Maybe then I wouldn't've made so many mistakes- or lost those two boys. I felt a prickle of guilt, and looked down.

White flowers dotted the ground at the foot of the hill. There were small, irregular hills down there- burial mounds, I realized. Two men were standing amongst them, one before a mound and weeping, the other simply standing there, comforting the other with his presence.

I lost my breath, and my throat closed. I realized, with the excitement only a Lord of the Rings fan can get, that Théoden, king of Rohan, and Gandalf the White were below.

_Thud!_ I turned to see what had made the sound. The horse I had been following had just lost one of it's riders, and the other, a little girl, clung to the saddle, looking fearfully over at the boy on the ground.

The two men looked up, and Gandalf hurried to them, with a swiftness that seemed odd for someone who was - or at least, appeared to be - so old. Tentatively I made my way down to them.

"Hwaet?" I said, using the Rohirric word for hello.

Théoden looked up. "Hwæt eart thu?"

"Allysandra," I said, hoping I understood him correctly, "Er- I was- attacked- by Wild men. Er... _Wild Men,_" What had Blostma called them? "Wylde menne?" I guessed, knowing that most likely it was not right.

"Wilde ielde sucan!" the little girl had leapt off their mount and was sobbing into her brother's chest. He nodded, and spoke quickly to Théoden in rohirric, who answered equally fast.

Gandalf whispered something to Théoden, who looked at me and nodded. Gandalf then motioned for me to follow him. Suddenly I felt nervous. I hesitated, but decided to go anyways. The girl was placed back on the horse, and her brother led it by the reins behind him. Théoden strode forward and walked beside (and slightly ahead) of Gandalf. Thus I entered Edoras, the great city of Rohan.

They led us up through the main thoroughfare and into the Hall. I was almost trembling with excitement as the guards drew back the door and let us in.

Inside, sat four of the (in my opinion) best people in Middle Earth: the Three Hunters, and Éowyn. I touched my hand to my face, to make sure that I was here for sure.

A bump met my finger.

I blushed profusely as Legolas peered curiously at me, his fair face too much to bear. Acne! Now! In Middle Earth! I groaned, and tried to glare at my traitorous face, which, of course, was impossible.

They sat the four of us (the boy, girl, Lytling and I) down at one of the many wooden tables. Éowyn rushed forward, making sympathetic sounds as we sat. I realized that I must look a sight, all covered with ash and dirt and cuts and bruises. The other two sure did, though they were not coated with ash as I was.

Gandalf spoke, his rough and grumpy voice quickly forming the rohirric words. "Hie swelce secan, hie cweoan, be wilde ielde. Hwa faran ac fetian feorm!"

Éowyn hurried off, returning quickly with three bowls of soup. She looked questioningly at Lytling. "Eart thu hiere modor?" she asked me. I, supposing that she was asking me about Lytling's mother, shook my head, and she hurried back to what I supposed was the kitchens, returning with milk and an odd, soft gruel. I thanked her, and began to eat, gulping down the food like the two with me.

The others were talking. They were talking in a new language now, a complicated tounge that was totally different from Rohirric; more lyrical, and somehow less interesting. The first person to speak was Aragorn. The voice was Aragorn's, but it was deeper and more dangerous than Viggo Mortensen's. I found this Aragorn to be more frightening, more intimidating; terrible, but handsome and noble, too.

Gandalf answered in the tounge I assumed was Westron, gesturing at the boy.

Éowyn went and knelt down beside us, speaking softly to first the girl and her brother, then to me. Théoden sat down upon his throne with a great sigh, and Gandalf sat down on his right.

We told her our stories, (though she understood little of mine, thanks to my limited vocabulary), and she rose and spoke. I could not understand what she was saying, but as I watched her face and gestures, I knew what her words must mean. _"They had no warning! They were unarmed! Now the wild men are moving through the West Fold, burning as they go, rick, cot, and tree."_

"Hwider is Modor?" the little girl asked Éowyn.

"Shhh..." Éowyn put a blanket over the girl's shoulders, trying to comfort her.

Gandalf spoke to Théoden. Again, I (being the obsessive fan that I am) knew well what he said. _"This is but a taste of the terror than Saruman will unleash. All the more potently, as he is driven now by fear of Sauron!" _

Théoden drew a hand over his eyes, and Gandalf continued to speak. _"Ride out and meet him head-on, "_ he said, placing a hand on the arm of Théoden's throne. _"Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight!"_

Théoden looked warily at Gandalf. I watched with a mix of awe and horror. Awe, because I was in a room full of the people I had been nuts about since the age of eight, and horror because I knew what would happen next, and was frightened more than ever.

"_You have a thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."_ Aragorn spoke earnestly, and his noble face was full with emotion.

Théoden stood, and I crossed my fingers, praying that Théoden would change his mind, or something, and listen to what the others said. Hang the canon! I did _not_ want to be in a battle.

_"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now!_ " he paced before the throne,_ "Éomer cannot help us. _"

So much for that.

_"I know what it is you want of me,"_ he continued, turning to face Gandalf, who had also risen_, "But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."_

_"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not. "_ Aragorn spoke again. I resisted the urge to go "YEAH!" but I did sit up straighter at this.

Théoden angrily turned and walked to were Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli sat, his face darkening. _"When last I looked,"_ he said, the note of challenge clear in his voice, _"Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan. " _

_"Then what is the King's decision?"_ Gandalf's voice was sharp, and a teensy bit sarcastic.

Théoden turned to him. _"We go to Helm's Deep."_

_Dang it! _


	8. Chapter 7: On the Road Again

_A/N: I have to say, reviewers, that you guys absoloutely rule and that I love you all. Sorry for taking so long- the evils of school are starting to effect me. But I'm back, and with a vengence! Manwathiel, thank you for giving me a kick in the butt and getting me going! _

_A question to you all: would you like language translations? I wasn't sure if it was pointless, but Tempestgirl (who, btw, seems very like me) commented on it, and I want your vote. Tell me in your review, or email me at elfladyofmirkwood at hotmail dot com. _

Chapter Seven: On the Road Again 

I watched Lytling giggle through a mouthful of gruel, her newest and most amusing food source. She was staring at the gathering peoples before us, watching with wide blue eyes totally devoid of bias or cynicism, just a simple curiosity and open delight in the world.

For not the first time, I wondered what her thoughts were at that moment, if they were really any different from an adult's. I wished that I could remember what it was like to be a baby, what thoughts were contained in their newly-formed minds. What did she see as she looked out at the scene before us?

What _I _saw was Edoras slowly draining itself of all people, occasionally with the encouragement of a Rohirric soldier. Already the nobles were outside the walls, all mounted and dressed in fine clothing. Only Éowyn was down among her people, helping. The King was given a wide berth by all and the rest of the nobles resident in Edoras were too busy tending to their own needs.

"Alysandra?" A little voice sounded from my elbow. I looked down to see Regen, the little girl from the West Fold. She had clung to myself and her brother since after Theoden's decision to leave Edoras. She was bewildered by all the activity of the Edoras folk, and was looking worriedly up at me.

"Hwier is Modor?" _ Where is Mother?_ She repeated this question, as she had since I had known her. It was a constant mantra for her, revealing how vital her mother was in her life.

"Heo is gemot Helm's Deep," I assured her softly, telling her that her mother would most likely meet us at the great stronghold.

She smiled trustingly up at me, and I felt a twinge of guilt for lying.

"Regen! We sculan afaran!" Her brother's tired voice interrupted our small moment. _We must leave! _

"_May I join you?_ " I asked in halting rohirric. Regen nodded gratefully , taking my hand and dragging me down to where her brother waited, and then on to the gates.

The boy chattered constantly to his sister as we passed under the gates and out into the fields with a large crowd of people. I could not understand a word he said, but his voice told it all- he was desperately trying to swallow his nervousness at leaving Edoras. I, too, was nervous- Edoras seemed like a small sanctuary midst the hellish battlefield that had been my constant companion since entering Rohan, and I was loathe to leave it. Especially for the battle that lay ahead.

I knew the story, I knew how it would turn out. I mean, wasn't I one of the most obsessive Tolkien fans anyone had ever known? So why was I afraid?

The truth of the matter was, I knew not whether this was bookverse, movieverse, or some odd combination. I worried that my entrance into this world had thrown off the canon somehow. I promised myself to tread lightly in this world, for fear of dying.

But was it already too late?

The purple twilight reigned over the fields, unbroken by any firelight. Fires were banned- the soldiers were nervous enough as it were. No point in drawing attention to ourselves. The whole land was quiet, and we had met not a soul since leaving Edoras. It was enough to drive me insane.

"Uuuuh!" I softly screamed into the cloak I was using as a pillow.

Regen's brother, Gærs, sat up from his nearby spot. "Hwã!" _What?_

I made a face. "I'm about to go insane from all this stillness."

He cocked his head. ""Hwã?"

"_I_-" I pointed to myself- " am going to go _insane._" I made a really grotesque face and let my eyes grow large and fill with insanity- "because of the _silence_." I covered my ears.

His face crinkled up for a second, and he puckered his eyebrows, thinking hard. Then, seemingly abandoning his task of translating, he mimicked my insane look, giggling.

I sighed and went back to screaming, though stopped soon enough, hoping to keep Lytling, who was cuddled against my chest, and Regen, who was pressed in the small of my back, asleep. As I watched Lytling, a soft, warm form amongst the harsh wilderness, so innocent and peaceful in her sleep, I wondered what she dreamed of and wished to dream of it, too.

"We secan findan Modor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor! We secan findan Mordor!" _We go to find Mother! We go to find Mother! _Regan skipped ahead of Gærs and I, joyful under the blue morning sky.

I was sleepy and uninclined to join her. I had not slept at all, haunted by silent sounds and detailed memories of the burned villages and their dead inhabitants. Gærs was cheerfully awake, however terrifying the sights he may have seen. His eleven-year-old mind was somehow able to leave his memory blissfully blank in such arenas. I envied him this gift, for to me every breath of wind was the enemy, every grass blade that touched me was a wild man's flame, biting at my flesh.

I had fancied myself brave before, but now I knew that I was no hero, simply a weepy, frightened girl.

I could see the powerful form of Aragorn ahead, astride a horse and clad in dark greens. He was the real hero in this tale. And I hoped very much that he would come through for us all.


End file.
